


Non Desistas. Non Exieris  (never give up, never surrender)

by luinil80



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Character Death, Dark fic, Death Threats, Dehumanization, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Mental Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mind Control, Nightmares, Reconditioning Fear, Self-Defence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luinil80/pseuds/luinil80
Summary: "Possible prompts:Dark fic, dark fic, dark fic, please ruin my (and Fox's) day! Or a lot of hurts and pulling in someone else for a bit of comfort at the end? Or Fox murdering him with his own lightsabers? Or something I haven't thought of? There's just so much POTENTIAL here."...here you go
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52
Collections: Clone Wars Saved Exchange 2020





	Non Desistas. Non Exieris  (never give up, never surrender)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nadiavandyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiavandyne/gifts).



This wasn’t what Fox expected his life to be. Fox didn’t want this— _never_ wanted this.

But he had no power whatsoever. He’d never had it, except among his men; and even there, many brothers, guards and otherwise, had begun to hate him. 

There were times he’d give an order, and seconds later, he didn’t even remember he’d done it, leaving his men stunned. With that, the whispers started. About his sanity. About his closeness to the Chancellor. About losing reports as soon as they were in his hands. About _him_.

And Fox started to lose himself, slowly but surely. His mind wasn’t his anymore. He could _feel_ it. Every time he came back from the Senate building, his mouth tasted of … well, not exactly _blood_ , but close enough.

* * *

Back on Kamino, Fox had been a ray of sunshine between his batchmates and within his squad. Sharp, intelligent and witty—he was the one they could all rely on when they had a problem. He had firmly believed that soon, he’d be on the battlefield, to serve the Republic to his best. He was a future commander and went through ARC training, after all. But those beliefs were soon crushed when he was told that his assignment would be Coruscant—to the security of the planet, the Senate, and the Chancellor himself. Fox was to be the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard.

* * *

He knew no clone had a choice about his posting, but it was hard to hide the disappointment he felt seeing his _vode_ marching to war, to become the pride of the Republic, whilst he was stuck with senators, criminals and other people he didn’t know or care about. He trained to be a _kriffin’ soldier_ , not babysitting politicians.

A few months in, a sharp, constant pain had worked its way into Fox’s head. He didn’t care much at first; surely it was just stress and too much work on his hands. Thankfully he had the help of Coruscant’s other commanders: Thire and Stone, and especially Thorn. 

But this … _overwhelming_ feeling never seemed to go away.

Still, Fox was the only one on call for the Chancellor’s office. Whenever the man requested a commander, Fox had to drop everything and rush to the Senate. He could not say no. 

He usually came back a day or three later, eventually, he ceased to remember that he’d been gone at all. It was terrifying. The others soon learned that it was better not to ask questions. 

Once, a very worried Thorn casually asked him about his latest meeting with the Supreme Chancellor. Fox had been missing, moseying back to the barracks after three days. Everyone at the Guards’ headquarters had been worried.

_Commander Thorn, I don’t have time for your karkin’ banthashit! What are you talking about?_

This reply had scared the hell out of Fox, when he stopped to consider his words. It’d spooked Thorn, too. He was Fox’s _ori’vod_ —they were closer than rank-name basis and Thorn deserved better than to be treated like a shiny.

Every time Fox came back from one of those meetings, he felt he was losing a bit of his mind, too.

It was a slow process. First, he’d started crying in his sleep. He’d wake up to a face salty from dried tears, eyes swollen and head throbbing, with no memory of a bad dream. But it wasn’t long before the nightmares started … 

In the night, he suddenly remembered everything: the brutal missions; the missing reports; the people he’d killed and the screams he’d swallowed every time _someone_ ordered him to do those terrible things. 

But Fox still he could not see who was behind all the madness. He had only a voice—an angry, distorted voice. And he still had just one question: _why?_

His headaches grew stronger, now that some memories were reappearing in his mind, fouling his sleep. He thought it was some sort of mental illness. That he was, finally, going insane.

_Maybe he was worthy of reconditioning._

Fox was growing painfully sure of this … until another mission. Another official call from the Senate building. 

He made his way, as always, through the halls until he stopped in front of the Chancellor’s door, as always. It was the same—same gestures, same words, same everything, and Fox had the feeling of living in a never-ending loop. 

Until the man in front of him startled him into reality again. How had he gotten inside the Chancellor office? He didn't remember that?

_My boy_ ... came the man’s voice. _Him!_ The man from his memories, the one Fox didn’t recognise, was the Chancellor … and, again, everything after went black. 

He woke up, without remembering to go to sleep, in his office, curled up on the old sofa he kept for staying overnight to work. His armor was stacked neatly on the floor and there was a fresh cup of caf at his desk.

_How? He didn’t remember a thing…_

But Fox didn’t snap until Thorn died. He lost the closest brother he had, the one who helped him the most when Fox had taken too much on himself. The one who was always there without questioning the situation. 

Fox had lost everything, and the nightmares were getting worse.

He started to avoid the Chancellor’s calls, selfishly sending in shinier officers and hoping they wouldn’t receive the same treatment he’d gone through. 

But when the last officer never came back, Fox decided he’d had _enough._ Whatever action he took wouldn’t be for him—he was lost and not worthy of any kind of redemption. It was for the soldiers he commanded; the brothers he was responsible for; the _men_ who still had their whole lives ahead of them. 

The next time an official call came in, Fox was the one who took it. He’d made sure to settle his affairs, ordering his fellow officers to care of everything in case he didn’t come back. Thire and Stone gave him a funny look, but they didn’t dare ask questions. They just nodded and watched him go. 

Entering the Chancellor’s office felt different this time. He couldn’t understand why, but the air was charged and an unfamiliar fear welled up inside him. 

_Fox had never been afraid._

He found the Chancellor standing at the large window with his back to him. He wore his cloak, and an unnatural silence spread all around him.

Meanwhile, Fox kept his distance, waiting for orders, even if everything in him screamed that he should run away as fast as he could. He stood firm, as every loyal soldier does.

_Something was wrong, very wrong._

Slowly the Chancellor turned to him. He was different, somehow older than usual, but Fox tried not to dwell on that. He needed to keep it together; he needed to focus and find out what the _kriff_ was happening.,

The Chancellor approached Fox, wearing a sickly sweet smile … 

_You are in distress, Commander. I can feel it…_ said the man who was the Chancellor and, somehow, _not_. 

Fox became aware of something he’d only suspected in the dark of his dreams. He said nothing, unsure how to respond. 

So the man, now in front of him, spoke again.

_I sense you are aware of what’s going on., What a pity, you were my favorite._

Was that a threat? Did he just admit what Fox only dared to think? Fox wanted to speak, but his words were stuck in his throat.

_Now behave and be still and let me kill you._

Fox's whole miserable life suddenly passed before his eyes in the red flash of a lightsaber. 

_Sith!_ That’s why the Chancellor could feel him! Everything made sense now—too bad Fox had to find out like this. 

When he tried to react, his body tensed, as if millions of strings were pulling him down. He felt helpless, his training forgotten and his mind numb. This was it. _The end._

But when the weapon was raised to cut his throat, millions of faces—faces he thought forgotten—sprang to his mind. It wasn’t about _him._ He came here for _them.._ All of them. He was here to save his brothers. 

And so he did. 

With the last strings of his own tattered willpower, Fox shot out an arm. He snatched the saber away, quickly stabbing the Chancellor right through the heart. It was neat and precise. Fox had never held a lightsaber before. All he could think, in his practical clone mind, was that it was lighter than a standard blaster. 

Fox stood there, speechless, surprised at himself. The Chancellor must have been surprised, too. Undone by his own supreme confidence. 

With a body laying on the ground, thoroughly dead as far as Fox could see, the rational part of his brain yelled at him to do something.

  
  


_They will find you. You’re going back to Kamino. No one will believe you—_

_No one will believe you …_

_No one will believe you, a clone, a loyal soldier, capable of such a thing._

He was good at this. Lying. 

There’d been no one around when he arrived, hours ago. The lightsaber was still in his hand, deactivated of its own accord. Fox knew just where to leave it: the office of Sly Moore. She was generally suspicious, _creepier_ even than your average Umbaran, and closer to the Chancellor than anyone. Who would believe the precious Chancellor had been a Sith all this time? 

And who would come to the defence of Aide Moore?

Fox wasted no time leaving and he knew how to avoid the cams. He was back at headquarters before he knew it—not because he’d been ordered to forget, but because speeder traffic was light. Already, things were looking up. Fox just hoped life would be better—for himself, and all his brothers here and out on the front lines.

_That night, there were no nightmares for Commander Fox._

**Author's Note:**

> I did it! And the first time I write a whole thing about Fox. Also thanks to a wonderful beta that helped me a LOT with this. Had a very shi*ty month and went through everything...so I used Fox and mental abuse to express my discomfort and turning my sadness into creativity.  
> Hope you like it, just because I love it!


End file.
